...there was practically one handwriting common to the whole school when it came to writing lines. It resembled the movements of a fly that had fallen into an ink-pot, and subsequently taken a little brisk exercise on a sheet of foolscap by way of restoring the circulation.

— P.G. Wodehouse

The Scribe"Under the wings Of the feathered Goddess, And in the middle Of the three dancing women, The scribe comes alive To reveal mysteries hidden Through divine gifts given The scribe is driven On his sacred mission To wake pall the universe'men, women and Heavenly children. Under the seven rays of Ten, And from the age of just ten, The scribe comes alive With the fertile ink Of his luminous pen. Below the spectacle of the moon, And in the smile of the sun, The scribe is here to show show we are all one.

— Suzy Kassem

These bits of paper are covered with lies. They poison your minds. And so long as they exist, you cannot hope to see the world as it truly is.(...) You turn to them for answers and salvation. (...) You rely more upon them than upon yourselves. This makes you weak and stupid. You trust in words. Drops of ink. Do you ever stop to think of who put them there? Or why? No. You simply accept their words without question. And what if those words speak falsely, as they often do? This is dangerous.

— Oliver Bowden

The word love has always tasted like the scent of fresh ink and soft paper to me. Like a newly written poem.

— Megan Hart

This assignment could damn well project all the words across my face and the ink stain my hands a gory mess before I finished it.

— Jazz Feylynn

This is not one of your fictions where people bleed ink.

— Terence Paul Winter

To recklessly excuse a failure is to believe that I’ve effectively erased it from the story of my life, when I’ve actually imprinted it in indelible ink.

— Craig D. Lounsbrough

To say she is only a woman is to say a violin is a piece of wood with strings, and Dante is mere ink printed on paper.

— Bruce Crown

Vasily cleared his throat, probably impatient with Gabriel's bookshelf manners. 'You'll have to excuse me,' Gabriel said, putting back the booklet, 'I have a severe addiction to ink.'' Don't we all?' Vasily nodded. 'Thank God we have other addictions to assuage it a little.

— Jean-Christophe Valtat

Welcome to Book-a-colic Anonymous. Hi, I'm Jazz, and I am addicted to the written word. I love the smell of the blackest ink sliding across texture paper. My eyes squint against the loss of time within the pages of story. I don't think there's a cure for my compulsion to lose myself within life and times of those characters bound between the covers.

— Jazz Feylynn